


Old Acquaintances and a New Year

by Spot_On60



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/pseuds/Spot_On60
Summary: New Years Eve in Chicago
Relationships: Templeton "Faceman" Peck/John "Hannibal" Smith
Comments: 13
Kudos: 11





	Old Acquaintances and a New Year

Face was falling.

It wasn’t a tumble, rather a gently rolling free fall. Awash in a warmth so at odds with the weightlessness of the never ending flight. He hadn’t jumped or been pushed, or tossed from a plane, the only known activity he had for comparison. Each parachute jump he’d made was met with an immediate light chill to his face, perhaps a rise in temperature the closer he floated to the ground. But not now. The warmth surrounded him as well as being a part of him, both radiating and absorbing, no different than the final heated breeze one felt caressing sun-soaked skin on a summer’s evening.

There had been no searing heat during the day though. On the contrary, the air had been dry and bitter cold. The Windy City had been living up to its not always affectionate nickname. Torrents of iced air building speed as they raced through the streets and alleyways of the world class city on the shore of Lake Michigan.

But all that was forgotten in this single moment. With fireworks exploding overhead, springing trails of light throughout the sky. It could have been cheesy, had Face cared. It’s hard to think of anything being less than serene when one is lost on a wave.

But think of something he did. The reason for his descent. Damn his knees. They had become weak and threatened to cave out from under him. The sensation of floating downward overthrew him.

He had no fear of collapse, though. Not when he felt the freewheeling sensation broken. It was nothing abrupt, nothing jarring. It was as simple as being captured in an all-encompassing embrace, firm and welcome.

His lips had been abandoned, feeling full and satisfied. The hot whispers of, “Face,” along his neck drew him in. His midnight companion’s dominance paradoxically coming through in the gentle comfort of his arms. Face was powerless to do anything more than surrender.

Head back, ready to once again let go, he had to wonder how it was they had never done this before.

It didn’t matter. Not now. Not as they stood alone on the windy rooftop of the brownstone where BA’s mother lived. The fireworks from Navy Pier ablaze in the sky, competing with the starlight, giving him a clear view of the man.

Not traditionally handsome, another paradox drawn from a seemlessly endless bag of tricks, his appeal shone through from within. Eyes again falling closed Face thought he would follow this man to the ends of the earth, had followed him there. His consort possessing the ability to draw him near, to tether Face to his side, to follow his lead.

His guide along this new path straightened to his full height. With chin held high he looked down on the Lieutenant, accessing. The kid’s eyes lay closed, but there, just a little lower, a quiet smile drew out one of his own.

“Happy New Year, Face.” He lifted the scarf Momma B insisted the younger man wear a little closer to again cover the exposed skin along his neck. “Let’s make it a good one.”

Hannibal was feeling as light as he had fifteen minutes before when this had started in the Baracus livingroom, the two of them sitting side-by-side, watching the final dregs of the ubiquitous celebrity of the day televising from Times Square. The occasional brush of hands and bump of shoulders, both keenly aware of the other’s every movement. You know - the usual.

Murdock had just passed by to deliver fresh cans of beer and whisk away the empties, breaking Hannibal’s mindless stare in the direction of the TV tuned to WGN. _Why be satisfied sitting here watching someone else experience the anticipation of the coming of a new year_ he thought to himself. _Get your ass off the couch and go meet the occasion yourself._

Midnight in New York City had been fifty-three minutes before. There was still another seven minutes before the countdown began in the Midwest. “I’m going to the rooftop to ring in the new year. Who’s coming?”

“Don’t be silly, chyle. The windchill up there is below zero.” Mamma B took for granted when she spoke all her boys listened as well as her Scooter. Mmm, maybe not so much when it came to the Colonel.

“Wind chills are for wusses.” Hannibal wobbled slightly. “Come on. Who’s coming?”

“I’ll go.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Sit down Scooter.” She didn’t lift her eyes from her crochet.

“Yes Mamma.”

“Murdock?”

“Billy’s been used to the warm weather in Georgia and the desert. I don’t think he should be out in the cold, and you know how he whines when I leave him behind.” He lifted his pink bunny sock clad feet to the ottoman.

“Guess it’s just you and me, kid.” Hannibal was digging his and Face’s jackets out from the front hall closet.

Face laughed at the boss’s presumption but was standing all the same.

Hannibal had zipped his jacket up to the turtleneck of his sweater and was holding Face’s coat out for the LT.

“Face?”

“Yes, Mamma.”

“There are scarves on the shelf. You wrap one around your neck before you even think of stepping outside.” Face opened his mouth, but was cut off before uttering a sound. “Don’t you argue with me.”

He mumbled, “Yes Mamma,” as he reached for the shelf.

The door stood open and Hannibal had disappeared around the corner. Face ducked out after him finding him by the door to the stairwell, yanking away while mixing a poetic slur of curses directed at the door handle. When the LT reached for the handle it was without warning he saw Hannibal had changed tactics. He had turned the handle sharply and pushed.

Giving way easily, the door flew outward with the two inebriated men falling through open space. The boss landed half on the steps leading to the roof and half on the landing. Toppled on top of him was Face. As the younger man repeated, “Shit! Shit! Shit!” he struggling to right himself. Hannibal had him by the waist of his jacket and was giggling like a fool.

Once Face was free the two of them laughed and stumbled their way up the metal stairs mainly on all fours. At the top Hannibal flung the door open. It was on it’s way to closing when Face caught it and had enough of his wits about him to say, “Find something we can prop it open with.”

Hefting a cinderblock the Colonel noted, “Good thinking, Kid.”

With the door held ajar they wandered around the mechanicals situated seemingly randomly about the rooftop. Concrete ornamentation surrounded the periphery of the building creating a low but wide palisade between the roof and ledge. “Come ‘ear, Kid,” Hannibal called after hearing a commotion drift upward from the street.

Carefully peering over, Face caught the last of the countdown as it wafted upward. “... six, five, four, three, two, one!” The words, “Happy New Year,” were garbled amongst the sounds of noisemakers, horns and the first of the fireworks lighting the sky, but all of that was soon muffled by the sound of blood rushing throughout his body and a soft moan he could only attribute to himself as each side of his head was carefully cradled between two massive paws, guiding him forward and up to meet the cushion of lips on his own.

It should be said this kiss had been long in the waiting. The man with a plan smiled into it and the spontaneity that brought it on. His hands moved swiftly around to his Lieutenant’s back when he felt the younger man sway and begin to dip downward. He couldn’t be certain the sparks he saw were from within or beyond his closed eyelids. He was, however, certain the moan that rolled over his lips came from his companion and the answering sigh from himself.

Nuzzling between scarf and surprisingly heated skin a singular thought came to mind. Something all encompassing and without interruption. “Face,” he whispered.

His nose found the softness of an earlobe causing a light waver of his balance. The headiness relieved as he again stood tall. With chin held high he looked down on the Lieutenant, accessing. The kid’s eyes lay closed, but there, just a little lower, a quiet smile drew out one of his own.

“Happy New Year, Face.” He lifted the scarf Momma B insisted the younger man wear a little closer to again cover the exposed skin along his neck. “Let’s make it a good one.”

Face chuckled, “It’s certainly off to a good start.” Then with a smile, wide and open as the Midwestern Plains themselves he added, “Happy New Year to you too, Hannibal.”

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~¥¥¥¥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**H/F 2019 Holiday Prompt Fest**

There was a prompt about a drunken first kiss on New Years; unfortunately, I can’t find it for the life of me.


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